Departures
Marpenoth 22, 500 DR Castle Cormanthor, Myth Drannor, Cormanthyr The sun's rays shone brightly down through the shining towers of Castle Cormanthor to the courtyard below, where upon shining marble tiles and natural cobbles stood Josidiah Starym and his adventuring party. The trees around him had leaves of gold and brown, some falling all over and around him, picked up by gentle autumn breezes and carried about the yard listlessly. Above, on the ramparts of the Rule Tower stood his love, Aravae, watching him silently next to her great-uncle, the Coronal, Eltargrim. She watched him prepare his horse and secure his gear, for the company would depart at highsun, and she would watch him go. She watched stone-faced, a single tear drifting down her cheek like a crystal drop of sorrow, reflecting the emptiness she was feeling. He was already out of reach from her, down below amid his friends, bound for a seemingly hopeless quest to find the lost Elfblade, the Ary'Velahr'Kerym. She had little doubt in his skill at arms or proficiency with the Art, but descending deep into the heart of the Twisted Tower, into the realm of the Underdark and home to the elves' most bitter and oldest enemy the drow, seemed pure folly for any hero. So ridden with grief was she, that not even the Seldarine would receive her prayer. There was no favourable outcome in this, she knew. All she could do was uphold her promise to him, consider their vows as sacred until death, and await his return. "He faces a tall adventure," said the Coronal, dressed in magnificent white palatial robes. His noble face gazed down upon the adventurers with curiosity, but also with guilt. He had been apprehensive of a joining of the two houses, Irithyl and Starym, but not because such an alliance would not be beneficial to the realm. Indeed, were the two clans to forgive their differences and join, Cormanthyr would undoubtedly prosper. Yet deep in his heart he feared the worst. Many of the old Starym clan, before leaving Cormanthyr after his famous Opening, made attempts on his life, disagreeing so whole heartedly with his choices that they felt he needed to be slain. While those that remained were less, extreme in their beliefs (and many of them honourable as Josidiah or Taleisin), he knew not to underestimate the family's cunning, and above all worried for his grand-niece's safety. He trusted Josidiah implicitly, but blood was thicker than water. "He faces it for you," she replied, almost coldly. She chided herself for her bitterness, for she knew only wisdom in Eltargrim's choices, but Josidiah's loss pained her deeply. The Coronal led it pass. He sighed deeply and for a moment they were silent. "He takes with him the best that the Akh'Faer has to offer, at my insistence," he continued. "And his chosen companions are some of the better blades in all of Cormanthor." He wanted desperately to ease her grief. Aravae made no indication that she had heard him. Her eyes were locked on him, and he looked up at her from the courtyard, determination and love in his eyes. They exchanged looks for a long moment, though to Aravae, it came and passed much too quickly. Soon, the four of the them were mounted and riding down the streets of the city, a company of akh'faern in their midst. Eltargrim sighed again, and kissed Aravae on her forehead, then departed. She remained. She watched the company get smaller and disappear into the treeline. She clutched desperately to the image of his face in her mind, fearing that she might lose it forever. Her fears were not ungrounded. It would be the last she would ever see of him. Category:Background Stories